


Seek the Old Blood

by NymboDerp (nymmiah)



Series: Haikyuu AUs [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodborne, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Gen, Monsters, Original Character(s), Other, Short Chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/NymboDerp
Summary: A plague that has inflicted the city of Yharnam since its very conception, digging its claws deep into the very heart of the city without any sign of a proper cure. The bloodborne sickness, corrupting those inflicted with it into a shadow of what they once were: mindless beasts, intent on spreading their disease. All that the people can hope for is a momentary respite, a short period in which the sickness can be chased away by its Hunters.Oikawa intends to do exactly that: find the source of the illness, and destroy it.In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi are Hunters, and the city around them attempts at self-immolation.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> If there is one console game that I adore above all else, it's Bloodborne. The lore, the aesthetic of it--everything appeals to me so much. And obviously, because Oikawa is currently the shining light of my life, I just had to mash my baby boy with one of my favourite games ever.
> 
> Pairings aren't the end goal here, but there definitely will be sexual undertones to some interactions.
> 
> Characters will be added as they appear.
> 
>  **Warnings:** GORE, CHARACTER DEATH, DEATH in general, BODY HORROR, EVERY SQUICK IMAGINABLE  
>  **Written descriptions that could trigger phobias and/or squicks related to:** SCOPOPHOBIA/eyes, TRYPOPHOBIA/holes, monsters, sex, death, needles
> 
> I've drawn some art of this.  
> http://toorusized.tumblr.com/post/159483018641/introducing-healing-church-vicar-kenma-and-his  
> http://toorusized.tumblr.com/post/159413465946/trying-out-a-new-painting-style-with-more  
> http://toorusized.tumblr.com/post/159377721396/toorusized-i-absolutely-adore-bloodborne-so-i

_ There was a shadow chasing after him. _

_ Faceless, voiceless, formless-- it was an ever-shifting mass of bones and flesh, of grotesque growths protruding from every available orifice. Flesh, stripped thin like tendrils, like hair, lashed out through the air in defiance of gravity. It roared silently behind him, gargantuan claws gouging holes and rending the space around him to shreds in its every attempt to capture him. _

_ The world crumbled around him. _

_ And he could only run, run and run and run, far away as possible from its ravenous appetite. _

_ It would only be a matter of time before he was caught. But for now--he could still escape from the shadow’s grasp, if only barely. _

* * *

The main problem, it seemed, that he had with this entire ordeal was that he had utterly no access to bathing products.

Much akin to Chapel Incense, the stench of putrid and rotting body fluids clinging to his every pore was surely wafting up with such strength that it reached the gods themselves. Except, instead of repelling beasts like Incense did, this stench would surely attract them instead.

It was a wonder that solely stepping onto the streets didn’t alert every beast of his presence.

Oikawa tugged at his coat in disgust, fingers picking at an old blotch that stained the supple leather from his hip to his chest a dull brown. Though, really, he couldn’t tell whether it was this  _ one _ stain alone that was contributing to the colour. Layers upon layers of beastblood and grime coated his every crevice--both fabric and skin.

Truly, if there was one thing that he missed about his life prior to the constant cycles of the Hunt, it was the constancy and availability of bathing products.

“Ne, Iwa-chan, where to next?” Oikawa asked surreptitiously, glancing over to his companion. He reached up to run grimy fingers through grimy hair; the brown streaks left behind would barely be distinguishable from the rest of the gore clinging to his body. “We’ve cleared this area out-- _ finally _ . And, uh, and I think we’re starting to run low on blood,” he added surreptitiously, a bright lilt to his words. “Iwa-chan guzzled the last of it, like that greedy brute he is.”

By the foot of the stairs, Iwa-chan--or Iwaizumi, to those who knew him less familiarly--was whetting his blade, where each pass of the stone against the metal let out a grating, bone-deep rasp and rattle. The resulting sounds made Oikawa grimace.

“Cathedral Ward. We should check in, take stock. Rest as well.” Iwaizumi was a man of little words, but where he didn’t speak, his actions spoke for him. Iwaizumi stood up, pocketing the whetstone and withdrawing his blade once more. He didn’t sheathe it, keeping it loosely by his side, secure in his grip.

Oikawa hummed quietly, taking lead without further response.

He and Iwaizumi drew apart as they ventured closer towards Central Yhornam. There was safety in numbers, but it was far more smart if they weren’t in immediate reach of each other. If they encountered a giant, they would be far too easy to take out with just a single swipe.

They’d been hunting together long enough that there was no need for any verbal communication. Their weapons were ready to be drawn at the slightest hint of trouble. Though they had cleared the streets just mere hours before--beasts would surely have returned to repopulate the city in search for anything that could sate their insatiable hunger.

The beasts were seemingly  _ endless _ \--a far cry from the typical Hunts that either Oikawa or Iwaizumi had been privy to thus far.

None of their other Hunts they’d experienced had lasted longer than a few days. Yet this time, they were still on the Hunt, even  _ weeks _ after the Bells had tolled to signify the beginning of such a period. The days had past, one after the other, time blurring to such an extent that Oikawa could barely recall a time when they had not been in a Hunt.

It was their reality now: the scourge of this particular Hunt was a norm now, a fact that people lived from morning to the day’s end.

The source of the beasts had yet to be uncovered, and the people of Yhornam suffered for it.

Far too many people had run out of Incense to keep the beasts out of their homes, to prevent the ever-spreading illness from poisoning them and converting them to beasts themselves. They had saved as many as they could, guiding them to the Chapel where Incense yet remained limitless.

Oikawa’s footsteps were barely a whisper upon the cobblestone paths of Yhornam, but his every breath was startlingly audible to his own ears. Iwaizumi’s leather armour creaked as his blade was drawn. Wind whistled through the empty streets; there was the distant crackle of dried leaves sweeping across cobblestone floors.

“... Do you hear that?” Oikawa asked quietly.

“It’s too silent.”

It was good to know that it wasn’t just Oikawa who thought the silence was alien.

Oikawa glanced around, nervous, anticipatory. He wet his lips, barely noting the grotesque taste of curdled filth on his tongue. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for Iwaizumi’s response, he drew his cane and lashed out, fingers deftly disengaging the handle to release the coiled chain. The rattling clash of metal against metal echoed across the empty streets, and it lingered in the form of evanescent ringing. Above them, a carrion bird cawed.

And yet there was still no other sound to be heard. Not a scream, not a groan--not even the weeping of shambling Huntsmen to slice through the startling silence. The absence of inhabitants locked away in their homes, leaving the streets dark without the dull oil lamps piercing through curtained windows, only added to the ominous weight upon the city.

Iwaizumi’s voice broke the quiet again. “Strange… Let’s hurry.”

Oikawa didn’t need to glance back to know that Iwaizumi was grimacing, even as they made their brisk way out of the district.

The bells hadn’t tolled a second time to mark the end of the Hunt--or rather, Oikawa couldn’t recall hear them ring. It was unlikely that both Oikawa and Iwaizumi didn’t hear the bells. Their life revolved around the Hunt; the tolling of the bells would’ve reverberated across the City and into the core of their bones.

The Hunt had to still be in progress.

But if it were still in progress, why were there no beasts around?


	2. Chapter Two

Unexpectedly, their journey to Cathedral Ward had been uninterrupted.

Oikawa had expected to encounter a large gaggle of monsters on their way to the Ward, a culmination of all of the monsters they hadn’t encountered since they left Central Yharnam.

Despite the muggy humidity of the city, Oikawa found himself suppressing the urge to shiver at the thought of their trek back to the Chapel. Yharnam was barely more than a skeleton in its lifelessness.

It was utterly exposed, an architecture of bare bones sculpted into a facade of a city of brick, iron and mortar and nothing much else. The buildings arched up into the heavens on either side of them like a ribcage curled around a heart. The sky above the city’s heart was blotted out by heavy clouds; divine sighs of mourning blanketing a dying city.

The absence of both humans and beasts from the city--no, the  _ unnatural silence _ of the city had left it feeling utterly drained of any of its former vivacity.

“There’s almost no point in staying here anymore,” Oikawa offhandedly remarked once they had reached the entrance of the Chapel. Heated air billowed against them as they forced the iron doors open, enveloping them in a heavy smoke even before they passed the threshold.

Iwaizumi glanced over at him, dark eyebrows furrowed to form a valley upon his brow.

A questioning look, one that asked for elaboration.

Oikawa sighed softly. He placed his hand upon the Chapel doors again, pushing at them idly. The doors shut after a moment’s resistance; the grind of the metal hinge a low, deep sigh of defeat echoing that of Oikawa’s.

“There’s no one left in the city. None left but us and a handful of others. There’s nothing left to protect, Iwa-chan. I didn’t… Well, you know I didn’t become a Hunter for the thrill of it.”

“I know. And neither did I,” Iwaizumi replied after a moment’s pause. “As you know, Oikawa.”

They walked deeper into the cavernous hall of the Chapel, past the shadowed narthex and into the nave. The walls and stone floor were bathed in the flickering, orange glow of candles, and each step they took seemed to disturb the air enough that the flames would dance in synchrony with their feet.

Oikawa shot Iwaizumi a grin of unpracticed sincerity. The muscles on one side of his face twitched from disuse. The other side was notably stiff. “Thank you, Iwa-chan. For following me into this. You didn’t have to become one too.”

He didn’t reach out to clasp Iwaizumi’s shoulder like he usually would: for all that he and Iwaizumi were closer than even the best of partners, Oikawa had always been averse to sentiment. Never would he willingly display his genuine feelings.

Iwaizumi let out a grunt in response.

Perhaps he was just as averse to it as Oikawa was.

“Just as you would do for me,” Iwaizumi stated. Even in the sentence’s unfinished state, Oikawa could understand exactly what he meant to say with those words.

Iwaizumi was right.

For Iwaizumi alone, Oikawa would do everything in his power to help him in his endeavours. He would give up his lifestyle, his life, his soul, if it would keep Iwaizumi alive.

Iwaizumi then paused by one of the pews, and Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi sank down onto it, letting out a gusty sigh as he did so. It had been a long night, and really--he deserved the rest.

Oikawa did, too.

But the sight of Iwaizumi laying there with his jacket tightly stretched across his arms and chest, and straps of tough cloth criss-crossing over his body was enough to make Oikawa feel uncomfortable just looking at him.

“Take your holster off at least if you’re going to sleep, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa reprimanded with a soft laugh. He reached out to hook a finger under a strap, plucking it such that it snapped against the thin fabric of his shirt. “It can’t be that comfortable with a gun and a sword digging into your back.”

Iwaizumi grunted once more, but didn’t move. His eyes had closed, and Oikawa was sure that he would fall asleep within moments. He wasn’t cruel enough to call out to him to force him to stay awake: they needed all of the downtime they could snatch in this cruel period.

So instead, Oikawa let out another laugh, walking past Iwaizumi to head deeper into the Chapel. He spared a moment to glance around as he walked.

Perhaps in a world where Hunts weren’t a norm, time would have been kinder to the Chapel.

It was weathered and worn and grey, but the Chapel was still a gorgeously constructed monument of the Healing Church with its imposingly tall walls, the handsome carvings and detailing etched into the eternal, smooth stone of its foundations. The candlelight only added to the reverent charm of the spacious hall, flickering shadows and whimsical shapes across the stone and stained glass.

But he didn’t spare much more than that passing thought on the Chapel, these were old thoughts from a lax period between hunts: at this moment he was much more concerned with the altar, at which knelt a man dressed sparsely in rags that may have once been a vestment. The man’s arms were raised above his head, trembling with exertion.

Oikawa knelt down beside him, spending an ephemeral moment to play reverence for a faceless god that he couldn’t bring himself to believe. He clasped his hands together upon his lap. He never bowed his head however, instead peering at the man with a lukewarm smile on his face.

“Are you still alive, Father?” Oikawa asked.

There was a moment of stillness.

“As alive as anyone can be in this time,” finally came the response from the man.

Sawamura raised his head from the prayer stance he had assumed, the stiffness of such an action betraying how long he had been in that position. His arms were now lowered, and Oikawa took a moment to peer at his features. His cheeks were gaunt, and his hair was matted with sweat and strain. His lips and skin were pale, either from illness or from bloodloss.

Oikawa sincerely hoped it was from the latter; he would hate to have to kill the man before he could turn into a beast within the sanctuary of the Chapel.

“You are still alive and sane, Hunter… And in need of more blood, I presume,” Sawamura continued, tilting his head back with a grimace on his face.

Oikawa’s smile widened, and he inclined his head. “If you please, Father. The Blood of the Healing Church is far more potent than anything else we could get our hands on in this time.”

Sawamura attempted to stand up, though he faltered when his limbs seemed to fail him momentarily. Oikawa held out a hand for the other to take, but it was ignored. Though it could have been for the beastblood and muck that clung to his skin, Oikawa was more inclined to believe that it was due to Sawamura’s pride.

Oikawa moved to stand up after Sawamura did, and stood proudly upon his feet before Sawamura could straighten up from his hunched stance.

“I could mistake you and the other Hunter for blood-addicts. How much more could you require? This is the last that I can give you until the day after,” Sawamura stated firmly. “Anymore, and I would be left with nothing. Not enough for you, not enough even for me.”

“Of course, Father,” Oikawa replied with a smile. It was bland; a lazily constructed lie.

Sawamura barely acknowledged it. Instead, he held an arm out and he let Oikawa put a vial to the junction of his elbow to draw blood out. The vial tip slid through the scar tissue over the cephalic vein, the product of multiple blood extractions. Oikawa pulled the vial out only when it was completely full--much to Sawamura’s obvious displeasure. Sawamura had only wanted a half-portion taken. Oikawa didn’t care.

As it was, Oikawa and Iwaizumi needed the blood far more than the holy-man did. After all, all the man could do was sit and wait until the Hunt was over while the two Hunters risked blood and life to eradicate the source of the beasts.

“Thank you, Sawamura-kun.”

Sawamura’s eyebrows furrowed, obviously displeased by the suffix Oikawa attached to his name. Or perhaps it was for the change in address from formal to something more casual.

“... A new person came through the doors today,” Sawamura said after a long moment. “He said that he’s a Hunter, much like you and the other one. Perhaps you should introduce yourself to him; he certainly won’t say anything to the rest of us. He slipped into the confessional the last time I saw him,” he added, a faint note of distaste colouring his words. The holy-man, it seemed, despised being kept ignorant of the status of the Hunt.

Oikawa’s smile didn’t waver despite the sudden curl of irritation within his chest.

Ignorance was surely bliss in this city.

Perhaps the man would change his mind after he found out about the futile and constant struggle Hunters faced when out of the safety of the Incense. Most times, the Hunt would only be called off on a fluke, a lucky happenstance that just so happened to stem that particular variant of the plague.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you again, Father. I’ll talk to you later.”

Sawamura waved him off, and Oikawa turned away to walk deeper into the sanctuary of the Chapel on the pretense of checking on all of the other humans. No, it wasn’t a pretense--but that wasn’t his immediate purpose for leaving the main body of the Chapel.

Slipping into the antechamber located behind the altar’s sanctuary, Oikawa took a moment to rest in the darkness found within. There were no candles to expose this one moment of vulnerability that he allowed himself: he sagged against the stone walls of the chamber, tilting his head back and letting out a slow, measured exhale.

The sound he made was more akin to a sigh.

This moment lasted no more than a few seconds.

Straightening himself back up, he passed through the dark antechamber and into the aisle that connected the main hall to private chambers that would have once belonged to high-ranking members of the Healing Church, or perhaps even scholars. There was a structure built into the aisle itself, inlaid with rose gold and porcelain. Oikawa supposed that this was the confessional that Sawamura had mentioned.

He’d always, certainly, been curious as to what it was but never dared to disturb the perfect stillness of the heavy drapes covering the structure.

Concerning the confessional: what wasn’t stone and ostentatious inlay was made of wood. It was cut with once-fiercely proud and intricate designs that had faded with time, and the opening to the structure was covered in swaths of dark fabric both gauzy and velvet alike.

He paused by it, reaching out and knocked against the wood.

Rather than the muted thuds he expected, it let out a hollow sound, betraying the emptiness of the confessional--or perhaps the deceptive nature of the Chapel’s architecture. It could be that there was a surprising amount of space hidden away behind seemingly thick stone.

When there was no response, Oikawa reached out to push the fabric to the side.

Inside was dark, and no amount of peering into the gloom revealed anything more than shadows. What light that came through from the candles around them couldn’t pierce through the dark. It was… imposing.

The dark concealed everything from his eyes.

It was completely possible that the confessional was much larger than it seemed on the outside. But from the hollow echoes of his every  _ breath _ that slipped past his lips and into the confessional, he had a suspicion that Iwaizumi could freely swing his sword at full range without coming into contact with a wall.

He let the fabric fall to cover the opening once more, deciding to return at a later time--preferably after he’d made his rounds and checked in on the rest of the survivors.

Oikawa drifted through the inner chambers, easily slipping into conversation with the survivors that would appreciate a friendly voice. He couldn’t give them reassurance that they were safe--but the sight of him, covered in gore that had yet to dry and with his weapons sheathed, seemed to give them some semblance of hope that they were ever closer to the end of this Hunt.

Hope was precious to them. Oikawa would have pitied them had he not once been in their position, that they would desire hope so much that they would weep and beg him for even the smallest scraps of it.

And so, he dallied.

He used the survivors as an excuse to ignore the looming darkness of the confessional and of the Hunt. He took their careful, cautious gratitude and occasionally plied them of their blood, cajoling them into parting with such a needed substance. They gave it all too readily for him, heady with his gregarious charity of false hope.

And so, his pockets filled with vials.

It was only when the cathedral bells tolled the late hour that he pulled himself away from the survivors whom were locked away in the inner chambers of the Chapel.

Oikawa returned to the confessional, grandiose in all of its silent, motionless majesty.

It wasn’t until he was stood before it that the curtains billowed under the influence of an inexistent breeze, revealing small slivers of an all-consuming darkness behind them. There was a sudden chill in the air as he regarded the abyss; it was something that made Oikawa shiver.

He wanted warmth. He needed to leave.

He refused to acknowledge that he was running away; instead, he justified to himself that he needn’t explore it just yet. After all, Sawamura  _ had _ mentioned that the Hunter had only newly arrived. Oikawa himself would have preferred to be left some time to adjust in a new location!

And besides--Oikawa was filthy. He was determined to wash the grime from his body, to cleanse himself of the filth in this rare moment of downtime Iwaizumi was allowing them both to have.

Past the confessional and within a room by the entrance to the nave, there was a room dedicated to relieving oneself. It had been converted into a washing closet by some of the survivors, and it was here to which Oikawa walked. Within the makeshift washing closet, each pass of the ragged cloth across his body left him feeling lighter, cleaner--and he indulged himself, using more product than was strictly allowed in this time of rations and need.

He rationalised that he was entitled to such use: it wasn’t as if he could wash himself on a regular basis like the rest of the survivors.

He left the closet only when his skin was pale once more, and his hair no longer matted with clumps of dirt and dried body fluids of various dead beasts. It almost pained him to shrug on his clothing once more - clothing which he  _ couldn’t _ wash until the Hunt was over. The stiff leather was coarse, sticky and filthy against his newly washed skin; Oikawa grimaced at the sensation.

Perhaps it was time for him to return to Iwaizumi.

His threaded cane was starting to feel heavy in his hands, as if it awaited battle once more. His feet were restless, and his eyes more so: he wanted to leave the imposing, heavy fog of Incense within the Chapel. The haunting darkness of the confessional would always be there for him to visit later.

Straightening out the cloak that clung to his shoulders with an absent flick of his wrist, he made his way out into the nave of the Chapel where Iwaizumi continued to slumber, face slack with the innocence of sleep.

It would be cruel for Oikawa to wake him up when Iwaizumi had finally fallen asleep, but he did so anyway.

Cracking the tip of his cane against the heavy wooden leg of the pew beside Iwaizumi, Oikawa was rewarded with the sight of Iwaizumi letting out a full-body jolt, and the clumsy lurch of an exhausted man grabbing his weapons instinctively.

The gun pointed directly at Oikawa’s face trembled, but Oikawa continued to grin widely.

Iwaizumi shot Oikawa a furious, bloodshot glare, not bothering to lower his gun despite the lack of danger. Perhaps he thought that such a threat would deter the look of pure, smug delight on Oikawa’s face. (It didn’t.)

“ _ Don’t _ do that.” Iwaizumi  growled, voice raspy with interrupted sleep. “I’m going to kill you one day, Oikawa.”

Oikawa shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s time for us to go. You’ve rested enough--”

“But you haven’t.”

“That’s inconsequential. We have a Hunt to pursue.”

“You’re an idiot.” Iwaizumi withdrew his gun, moving to shrug his jacket and holsters off onto the space next to himself. He shot Oikawa another glance. “Go to sleep. You’re going to be useless if you haven’t rested even for a moment.”

It was obvious that Iwaizumi wouldn’t allow himself to be convinced to move.

With a put-upon sigh, Oikawa sat down on the pew adjacent to Iwaizumi. The moment they were no longer supporting his weight, a sudden wave of weakness had his legs feeling like stone. Heavy, leaden, yet tremulous rock, besieged by an earthquake. Oikawa clenched his hands to hide the sudden tremor of his fingers.

“ _ Alright _ , mother.” He said finally, putting on a grin. “Satisfied?”

Iwaizumi grunted.

“Go back to sleep then, Iwa-chan. We’ll head out in the morning.”

No more words were exchanged between them, and Oikawa let his eyes finally fall shut to the sight of Iwaizumi’s still, slumbering form.

That night, Oikawa dreamed of darkness, where a formless shadow within the dark pursued him.


	3. Chapter Three

“Father Sawamura told me that a new Hunter is staying at the Chapel.”

“And you choose to tell me-- _ dammit _ … _ now _ of all times?”

“You know I only speak honestly when under duress! And I’m under duress right now!”

Oikawa’s mirthful quip was interrupted by the powerful swipe of a giant beast bringing its oversized weapon down onto the ground. Cursing softly as he leapt back and away from the giant, he found himself crashing into Iwaizumi. Momentarily disoriented by how hard they’d collided, they had to untangle from each other frantically as the giant brought its weapon back up again in preparation to hit them.

They had to scramble away as the concrete and cobblestone cracked, splintering into a million shards, barely escaping from the undoubtedly lethal blow.

“Get around him, idiot!” Iwaizumi snapped, his acerbic tongue even more so in this kind of state. “Don’t group up!”

“Demanding, demanding!” Oikawa quipped breathlessly, even as he did exactly what Iwaizumi had ordered. It was better that he did it, anyway. He was much more nimble on his feet than Iwaizumi with his lighter leather armour. It would be easier for Oikawa to dart away than Iwaizumi.

Even as the weapon came crashing down onto the space that they both occupied, Oikawa dashed towards the giant, disorientating it in the moment that he darted past it between its legs.

The giant hesitated, seemingly unsure of whether it wanted to face Oikawa or Iwaizumi now that they were on opposite sides of the beast. It was facing Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi had the larger weapon and the stronger arm; it’d be easier to take him out, but Oikawa quickly gave it a reason to turn. Oikawa lashed out with his cane, and the sharp chain bit at the backs of its calves, splitting tough skin enough that blackened, congealed blood sprayed out.

The giant roared, spinning around and using its momentum to swipe through the air hard enough that the resulting wind  _ lashed _ at Oikawa’s face, whistling and whining with how much power it put in the blow.

But it was far too slow to properly connect.

The chain of his threaded cane was ineffectual in dealing substantial damage, but at least it gave him a decent enough range to get away from the giant before it could ready another one of its hits.

Even as the giant attempted to take a step towards Oikawa, Iwaizumi had rushed forward, driving his blade into its heel and cutting through sinew and bone and muscle. The giant buckled momentarily, a strangled roar escaping it. It flung its arm out in an ineffectual attack, desperate to hit at least one of the two.

It wasn’t just for companionship that Oikawa preferred working in tandem with Iwaizumi. It was far more effectual to hunt larger beasts with another person.

They kept the giant’s attention divided between them, kiting it and distracting the giant from their partner when they were just about to be overwhelmed. The giant had no chance between the two of them: this was a rhythm and dance that Iwaizumi and Oikawa had learned years ago.

The allegro beat of their feet against the ground set the tempo of this corporeal song. The raw and shrill whistle of metal slicing through the air and the anguished and furious calls of their prey as they kept eluding its futile attempts at hitting them; the culmination of all of the accompaniments to their dance had Oikawa grinning wildly.

The thrill of working in perfect synchrony with Iwaizumi never dulled: the Hunt was a primal rush he doubted he would ever learn to give up.

Lunge, duck, roll--a side-step away from certain death. Oikawa’s blows were light against the backdrop of Iwaizumi’s heavy ones. A staccato tapping accompanying the legato sweep of a broadsword.

It didn’t take them much longer before the giant came crashing down onto the streets, motionless, soundless save for its dying groan.

The area they were in was silent save for the distant fluttering of carrion birds’ wings. Oikawa moved forward, fingers groping through the giant’s threadbare clothing to look for loot. He pulled out a variety of dull, blood-soaked quicksilver bullets from oozing wounds and out of its pockets.

“Think these are still serviceable?” Oikawa asked, holding them out for Iwaizumi to look at.

“Hm. Best to bring them to the workshop. They’d be better off melted down and reshaped.” Iwaizumi remarked after a moment of looking through the bullets. 

“I thought so.” Oikawa summarily pocketed them, straightening up and glancing around with an air of satisfaction. “Looks like we’ve cleared this area out… again. Haven’t we done so well, Iwa-chan? We’re being  _ productive _ .”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Not productive enough. We haven’t found the source, or why it was so silent last night.”

Oikawa looked over at his partner. Iwaizumi was swiping at his armour in disgust, though he ended up smearing black beastblood across the metal rather than removing it. Like Oikawa, he never had the time to properly clean his armour free of grime.

“Perhaps it was the new hunter. Like I said earlier, Sawamura told me about a new hunter who was staying at the Chapel.” Oikawa said finally.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Sawamura? Of course I did!”

“Not  _ him _ . The hunter.”

“Ne, Iwa-chan, that’s presumptuous. What if the other hunter’s a girl?” Oikawa asked, tilting his head to the side with a grin. It obviously meant to tease his partner, but the thunderous expression on Iwaizumi’s face darkened enough that Oikawa quickly added, “But no, I haven’t. I was thinking it must’ve either been the other hunter, but…”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Iwaizumi finished. The frown faded in intensity, but the crevice between his brows remained. “There were no bodies.”

Oikawa hummed affirmatively.

“Let’s go. We should go back to the workshop, drop off some of our excess supplies. Don’t think I haven’t seen you sneaking those vials into your pockets. We don’t need that many.”

Iwaizumi reached out to grab Oikawa’s jacket, the movement shaking him enough that the clinking of glass could be heard. Iwaizumi let go of his jacket in surprise, allowing Oikawa to pull away abruptly.

There was a fragile moment where Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa, and Oikawa stared back at Iwaizumi.

Oikawa placed a hand over his jacket pocket, possessive and defensive all at once.

Iwaizumi’s eyes had always revealed exactly what he was feeling, and this had never changed throughout the years.: surprise, confusion, a growing, dawning realisation. Anger.

The furrowing of Iwaizumi’s eyebrows broke the moment, and he spoke again, reaching out grab a large fistful of Oikawa’s shirt. “Wait. Oikawa. You have--”

Iwaizumi took in a sharp intake of breath when Oikawa smacked his wrist hard enough that his grip loosened on his clothing.

“Don’t grab me so suddenly!” Oikawa snapped. “Besides, considering how Iwa-chan’s such a reckless brute, it’s always necessary to have more than you’d expect to need!”

Iwaizumi wasn’t frowning. He was doing more than that. His face was alight with emotion, eyes wide, sharper than wolves’ fangs. His voice was equally as sharp, equally as  _ biting _ as he called out Oikawa’s name.

“ _ Tooru. _ ”

The use of his first name jarred Oikawa, but he refused to let it show.

Iwaizumi was furious… though perhaps, it was better to describe Iwaizumi as being  _ apocalyptical  _ in his anger. Iwaizumi rarely used his first name, after all. Nevertheless, Oikawa ignored the scowl on Iwaizumi’s face and drew himself up, a self-righteous look of disdain on his face. He then kicked the giant’s corpse to the side, a contemptuous air about him.

“ _ Let’s go _ , Iwa-chan. To the Chapel. I haven’t talked to the hunter yet; I was waiting for you to come with me. Who knows what kind of hunter they are, after all? They could be  _ terrible _ and try to attack me, and I wouldn’t have anyone at my back to keep me safe!”

Even as he spoke, Oikawa walked off ahead without bothering to heed Iwaizumi’s cursing and anger-filled hisses as he led their way back to the Chapel, rather than the workshop like Iwaizumi had previously intended.

It was fortunate that they had cleared out all of the beasts along the way to the Chapel: Oikawa could easily keep himself ahead of Iwaizumi without any obstacles in his way. If he slowed even the slightest bit, or give him an opportunity to, Iwaizumi would surely attack him to force him to talk.

Oikawa wanted to avoid that at all costs.

He needed to get to the Chapel: the only other  _ safe _ place that was guaranteed to have the presence of other humans. He knew that Iwaizumi wouldn’t push once they were in the company of others. Both Iwaizumi and he were intensely private, preferring to keep all of their thoughts and feelings as secrets from both the world and from each other.

And so he kept up a punishing pace, all but running his way back to the Chapel which would be his sanctuary from Iwaizumi’s probing questions and his piercing glare.

His booted feet pattered across the cobblestone pavements of Yhornam, the well-worn soles never slipping upon the grimy surface despite the unevenness of the floor. The buildings that were achingly familiar to him blurred by; his breathing was unsteady by the time he reached the Chapel, his legs burning and trembling minutely from the sprint back.

Oikawa didn’t let himself rest, however, instead forcing his way into the nave and passing by the few survivors that had come out from the inner chambers to pray by the altar.

He offered them nothing but a distracted smile, sweeping his way towards the inner corridor of the Chapel. Iwaizumi was at his tail, a thunderous cloud that loomed and threatened to strike him the moment Oikawa showed any weakness. Oikawa was determined to get to the confessional before Iwaizumi could catch up.

Iwaizumi’s feet pounded against the stone floor behind him; an earthquake’s rumble that chased after him.

Oikawa barely allowed himself a moment to dissuade himself as he pushed past the curtain to the confessional, plunging headfirst into the cavernous gloom of the chamber within.

Iwaizumi followed suit, and the curtains fell back into place behind them. And then there was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't promise any more quick updates.  
> But just be sure that I won't give this fic up any time soon.


	4. Chapter Four

They didn’t speak for all that Iwaizumi’s fury was palpable and Oikawa was intending on escaping.

Iwaizumi’s breathing was harsh, furious, heavy and loud much like a beast’s. Oikawa attempted to match him, breath for breath--his own sounded far too light, frightened and panicked within a darkness that seemed to close in on him.

Oikawa had never been claustrophobic--but never had he ever been so  _ blind _ .

He was walking with unsteady feet on an unsteady path, hands waving blindly through the darkness to try to touch  _ something _ . Anything. He needed something to guide him, but there was only air and the sounds of Iwaizumi chasing after him.

Those were the only two constants in a room that could’ve been anything. The blindness that accompanied the darkness of the confessional had him second-guessing everything else. He couldn’t be sure that the next step he took would be on solid ground. He couldn’t be sure that beyond his immediate reach, there weren’t any monsters prowling around them, waiting for them to falter to devour their flesh.

And for all that he knew Iwaizumi was chasing him, he couldn’t be sure if that would continue. He couldn’t be sure of where Iwaizumi was.

Iwaizumi could be inches, metres, miles away from him but he wouldn’t be able to tell in the endless gloom of the confessional.

Oikawa stopped walking. Iwaizumi did too; he could tell. Iwaizumi’s footsteps had stopped.

“Iwa-chan. Where are you?”

“You sound terrified.”

Oikawa flinched when something touched his shoulder, then his neck. He attempted to swat the touch away, but he was promptly pulled in--the grip,  _ a human’s  _ grip, was tight and unyielding around the collar of his jacket.

In the darkness, he found himself pressed against Iwaizumi’s chest, his head cradled into a sweat-slicked neck, lips pressed against months and months’ worth of grime and gore. His breathing was harsh; the humidity of his breath made the layers of dried viscera fluid smell worse. It was putrid; Iwaizumi’s scent was barely discernable under the heavy musk of dead beasts.

Oikawa was tense as Iwaizumi’s hand slid up the back of his neck and into his hair.

It was only by Iwaizumi’s touch that his tremoring stopped. Each point of contact of his fingers pressing deep into Oikawa’s scalp was another thread that bound him down and restrained him.

Oikawa found himself gripping Iwaizumi’s belt, fingers desperately hooking into the loops that the leather was threaded through. The rustle of leather bags and paper containers within such bags was a familiar sound; Oikawa brushed his wrist against it just to hear the crinkling of paper again.

“Relax. I’m here.” The anger had gone from Iwaizumi’s voice for all that his words remained sharp. “Do you have a light?”

“N-no.”

The falter in his voice had Iwaizumi’s grip tighten on his hair. Oikawa winced.

“I have one. Don’t move away too far.”

It was almost pathetic of Oikawa to continue to rest against Iwaizumi even after the hand had left his hair. Oikawa had his face buried into the filth of Iwaizumi’s clothing, refusing to move away even as his partner fumbled around for a torch. There was a few moments of failure to spark a flame, but Iwaizumi let out a sound of triumph when his torch lit up.

The light was blinding and bright, painfully white against the oppressive black shadows that had only just been all-encompassing. The white light faded into a more gentle red, dancing with blues and yellows and oranges as his eyes adjusted.

Oikawa stepped away once the light was no longer intense enough to leave white spots in his vision.

He swept his eyes around their surroundings.

Dust covered every inch of the corridor around them, draped like a heavy grey shawl over the intricate carvings of religious statuettes and the detailed inlay that scrawled both runes and archaic lettering in proud gold across the walls.

Demons cast indents into, and shadows across, the walls.

His eyes came upon Iwaizumi again. Iwaizumi’s face was washed in flickering ambers and oranges, the shivering light casting dynamic shadows across his fierce features.

Oikawa tore his eyes away from the concern that had slipped onto Iwaizumi’s face, making his eyebrows dip into a fierce valley and his lips arch like a nocked bow.

“Let’s move on ahead. The Hunter should be at the end, right Iwa-chan?” Oikawa paused, then added, “Don’t lag behind, Iwa-chan!” 

Oikawa’s bravado and pride refused to let him tremble now that Iwaizumi could  _ see _ him tremble.

Iwaizumi let out a snort, but didn’t do anything to stop Oikawa as he bravely,  _ stupidly _ marched forward and deep into the gloom.

His footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Oikawa had to wonder just how deep the confessional went. Was it even a confessional? It was far too  _ deep _ to be a confessional.

The carvings became more worn down the further in they went, and the dust became thicker and thicker.

Oikawa could finally see a trail leading ahead of them, footprints imprinted into the deep layer of dust on the floor. The prints were large; the other Hunter had to be fairly tall to fill in such shoes.

There were spurs upon the other Hunter’s boots, and he appeared to be wearing a cape or long robes: there were patches of dust, freshly sweeped, that accompanied the footsteps.

Oikawa found himself stepping only where the other footsteps lay, reasoning that there may be traps where the footsteps weren’t found rather than reasoning that he found reassurance in this childish game of avoiding stepping outside of set patterns.

He followed the winding path through the corridor. There were no other branching paths until the corridor finally gave way to a set of stairs leading downwards.

“... Downwards then?” Iwaizumi asked dryly.

“Downwards.” Oikawa agreed, swallowing thickly.

There was a knot in his throat that refused to leave. He reached out for the torch, which Iwaizumi easily relinquished.

Oikawa’s palms were sweaty, and he motioned for Iwaizumi to take point. Though the Chapel was safe, he wasn’t so sure if the basement had any access to the Incense that Sawamura always had burning on the altar.

If there were monsters down there, he had a feeling that his threaded cane wouldn’t be much use in such close quarters.

Their footsteps were audible against the stone masonry of the floor, unhindered by the centuries of dust that covered them.

They stepped out into a murky, cavernous room. The meagre light of the torch cast suggestive shadows through the room, barely lighting up doorways that led to--other places. Perhaps tunnels, or other rooms.

Oikawa stepped forward, putting the torch against one of the wall sconces to further light the room up.

It didn’t have much effect, but Iwaizumi took the opportunity to wrench the entire sconce off the wall, having decided to use it as his own torch since Oikawa had appropriated his.

“Never guessed that there was such a huge network of tunnels under the Chapel,” Iwaizumi murmured. “They must lead to catacombs.”

“Dead corpses are better off being burned,” Oikawa stated. “It’s--unnatural to leave them whole, to rot and decompose underground.”

This was just another one of those Yharnam customs that were foreign to the land that Oikawa and Iwaizumi had come from. Cremation was the only way to ensure that the souls within the body were released. By leaving their body whole--they were condemning these lives to be bound endlessly on the earth.

It was little wonder that the city was so restless, with all of the souls trapped beneath the ground.

“... Strange that Sawamura called this the confessional. Do you think they repurposed the room to create these tunnels?” Oikawa asked.

“Hm. It’s possible.” Iwaizumi muttered, walking to the centre of the room and peering upwards, waving the sconce in an attempt to light up the ceiling.

Instead of looking up, Oikawa walked towards the nearest doorway, peering into it. “Let’s go down this way-- mark this door, Iwa-chan. And the stairs. Just in case.”

He waited for a moment for Iwaizumi to do as he asked.

Jogging over from his previous location, Iwaizumi reached into his pocket to pull out sparkling stones, carefully placing them where Oikawa had mentioned. They would catch the most minute of light, reflecting it with more than double its original intensity.

And then they went through the doorway, down a slithering tunnel that grew narrower and narrower as they followed it.

The walls were lined with grooves large enough to fit coffins. Some of the grooves held decomposed wood and skulls.

“We should set fire to the catacombs as we leave.” Iwaizumi muttered after they passed by a sarcophagus crammed with multiple skeletons.

Oikawa sent Iwaizumi a wan smile. “And desecrate Yharnam’s sacred burial grounds while they’re too busy cowering and hiding under Incense? Ne, Iwa-chan, you’re pretty terrible!”

“I’d say so too.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa both jumped, drawing their weapons at the sound of a foreign voice.

In the time it took for Oikawa to pull his cane out, Iwaizumi had already lashed out with a guttural roar.

Iwaizumi’s large broadsword would have decapitated the source of the voice had the figure not dodged at the last moment, ducking under the weapon’s sweep.

“Lower your weapons. The priest upstairs must’ve sent you two down here to meet me, right?” The stranger stated wryly, straightening up and fixing up his vestments. “It’d be a shame if he sent you two down to greet me, only to find out that either of us are dead by the other’s hands.”

The stranger had appeared from a passage that both Iwaizumi and Oikawa hadn’t noticed.

“... Huh. Wasn’t expecting you to be the Hunter he mentioned,” Iwaizumi stated a moment later, finally lowering his weapon when the stranger didn’t seem to be inclined to any violence. The broadsword was sheathed at Iwaizumi’s hip again. “Who are you?”

Oikawa’s eyes were fixed upon the man’s face--or what little was left uncovered by the large metal headpiece he was wearing. How had he been able to dodge? Especially in such close quarters without warning? Only the man’s nostrils and lips were visible, the latter of which was spreading into a smile.

“Call me Kuroo. I’m a Hunter, I suppose. But before I was known as that--I was a part of the Healing Church. A doctor, in fact.”

“How did you become a Hunter?” Oikawa demanded. “I thought the Healing Church rarely allowed its members to change their profession halfway.”

“Ah…” The man slipped into silence. “I’m looking for something. I couldn’t do that if I stayed as a doctor.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Looking for something? I thought that the doctors were constantly in the field, searching for ways of--” researching the plague by inflicting their presence on those who were succumbing to the illness.

“What I’m looking for… It’s not something that you can just find by looking for survivors,” Kuroo explained, raising his arms in a shrugging motion. “It’s something else. It’s--” Kuroo cut himself off, lips pinching up. “Important.”

“Hm. You’re Hunting, then. You work alone?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I used to have a partner. I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy getting used to working alone,” Kuroo said with a laugh. “Are you suggesting I may--join you two? I can be of great help. I’m mostly a sharpshooter, though I am quite handy with a rapier. Surely I can help you in investigating the source of the monsters--so long as you allow me to search for what I’m looking for.”

Iwaizumi glanced over at Oikawa, who fought the urge to shake his head immediately.

Iwaizumi seemed to believe the man was being genuine, judging by the softened lines of his brow. And while Oikawa could always,  _ always _ trust Iwaizumi’s good senses… Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to trust a man who had his eyes and face covered.

“As long as you tell us exactly what you’re looking for. And you don’t intend on compromising how we do things,” Oikawa said after a moment’s hesitation.

Iwaizumi’s lips quirked into a smile, pleased that Oikawa hadn’t insisted on rejecting Kuroo’s help.

“Of course. Let us leave the catacombs. I haven’t been able to find much of use down here. It may be better for us to return to the Chapel.”


	5. Chapter Five

Oikawa refused to let Kuroo walk behind him, instead hanging back behind the Hunter as they walked through the winding tunnels back to the Chapel.

Iwaizumi had stayed near the front with the Hunter at first, occasionally making comments to draw the former doctor into conversation, but he soon retreated back to the familiarity of Oikawa.

Hunters kept to each other. Oikawa didn’t think of Kuroo as a Hunter.

Kuroo was too  _ strange _ . Too alien.

His movements weren’t the economical, practiced moves that Hunters would employ to minimise both their sounds and their energy usage. His strides were long and confident, his heels lightly clicking against the stone floor. His arms swayed, hands straying from the hilt of his weapon--signs that he wasn’t a  _ seasoned _ Hunter.

Hunters were silent. They  _ had _ to be silent. The beasts they hunted had heightened senses, and an underprepared Hunter would inevitably end up being consumed by the beast they’d attempted to destroy.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa followed Kuroo all the way back, though Oikawa made sure to look for the sparkling stones that Iwaizumi had left behind to mark the path that they had taken.

He wanted to make sure that they were headed the right way back.

Kuroo seemed able to pick his way through the tunnels unerringly, even without any light. He avoided rubble and dust without looking at them. He would be unable to, considering the metal that covered his eyes.

“Why do you wear that?” Oikawa asked suddenly, unable to hold his tongue when Kuroo ducked under a rather hidden, low-rising archway that Iwaizumi had knocked his forehead against on their way in. “The headgear, I mean.”

Kuroo tilted his head back, as if to look at Oikawa.

Oikawa could only see the impersonal barrier of metal covering eyes he had yet to see. He hated it; it was a barrier that stopped him from being able to tell how genuine the other was being--as ironic as the concern was.

“Well, it’s Church tradition,” Kuroo explained quietly, his deep voice augmented by the hollowness of the tunnels they were pacing through. “It all started back at Byrgenwerth. You know, the academy that had been headed by Provost Willem back in the day.”

Oikawa made a sound of acknowledgement. Byrgenwerth - an abandoned school located in the centre of a forest that Yharnam’s people would call the Forbidden Woods. He’d never been, though he knew Iwaizumi had once ventured towards it.

He didn’t know much about Byrgenwerth, only that the Healing Church had been founded after a man called Nekomata had departed from Provost Willem’s tutelage.

“Master Willem had a saying--that we should line our brain with eyes, to gain insight and wisdom beyond mortal comprehension,” Kuroo continued, raising a hand to gesture vaguely around his own head. “To do that, he stated that one must blind themselves to the world beyond and look within themselves. Nekomata, and therefore the Church, has always respected what Master Willem teached.  _ That _ is why it is tradition. That is why I wear this.”

“How do you see, then?” Iwaizumi asked. “And I never see Sawamura wearing it.”

Kuroo chuckled. “After wearing this for as long as I have, you learn to observe the world in different ways. Sawamura--well, he’s different. Do you recall that I told you I was a doctor? That is partially the reason why I wear this, and Sawamura does not. Certain members of the Church are encouraged to wear this.”

Oikawa found that highly suspicious. Why only certain members? Why not all?

“Certain members?” Iwaizumi voiced.

“Yes. Those who have attained a higher rank within the Church,” Kuroo explained without preamble. “Doctors and Church Hunters are considered higher ranking than those tending to the flock. We are considered more integral to the Healing Church’s ability to support Yharnam. Much like non-Church Hunters, we tackle the plague itself, not rather than just the individuals suffering from it.”

Oikawa wondered belatedly if it hadn’t been Kuroo’s smug attitude that had rubbed Sawamura the wrong way, rather than Kuroo’s supposed reticence.

They lapsed into silence as they walked out of the catacombs and up the stairs to the entrance to the so-called confessional.

Oikawa repressed the urge to shudder as they swept by the various images of beasts and demons on the walls. Iwaizumi sent Oikawa a concerned look.

Oikawa shook his head, refusing to answer.

All he wanted was to leave this place filled with darkness.

* * *

Kuroo, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had tucked themselves away in a quiet part of the Chapel, far from the citizens and priests that may try to listen in.

“You two are based in Central Yharnam, then?” Kuroo asked.

“Yes. We focus on keeping the streets clear so that other Hunters may come and go without hindrance,” Iwaizumi confirmed. “There are only so many of us that can search for the source when there are defenseless civilians still in Yharnam.”

Kuroo let out a hum.

Oikawa didn’t trust that.

“You’ve been hunting outside of the city this entire time, I’m guessing. Iwa-chan and I would’ve heard about you before if you had. Have you been able to find anything that the other Hunters haven’t?” Oikawa demanded. “Why else would you have returned?”

Kuroo spread his hands open in a gesture of placation. “I didn’t find anything beyond a locked door that seemingly has no physical key. It accepts only a passphrase. I came back to Yharnam to search for it.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrow had rose at that.

“In any case, I haven’t encountered any Hunters beyond the city walls in all my travels,” Kuroo then added. “It’s quite safe to say that they’re either all dead, or...” they’d left the country altogether.

It wasn’t a strange occurrence.  Hunters who couldn’t stand the oppressive nature of the city’s constant waves of disease could escape without a word. Unlike the defenseless citizens, they had the strength and opportunity to just-- _ leave _ the city behind, leave it to collapse in on itself and rot in the filth of beasts.

Across the numerous continents of the world, Yharnam was the only city--too small to be a country, too significant to be a village--that was plagued with this strange, recurrent epidemic. It was also the only city with the Healing Church, possessing healing powers beyond what anything else could offer.

It was the only reason why Yharnam could survive thus far: the Healing Church was too precious a resource to just let die out.

“So you’re saying…” Oikawa began quietly.

“You two are the only Hunters left? Possibly,” Kuroo confirmed.

The former Doctor had leaned back on the pews that he’d settled upon, looking utterly content despite the dust that clung to his robes. There was a twist to his lips, sweet and confident. He didn’t look like a Hunter, not with that headgear covering his eyes. The metal engravings that covered his eyes made him look alien, insect-like.

“We can’t just abandon the city to search beyond the walls,” Iwaizumi stated. “That would be irresponsible.”

“But there aren’t any citizens left in the city.” Kuroo replied, leaning in. "You said that's why you've stayed in the city, correct? There aren't any citizens left to protect."

Oikawa stilled at that.

Kuroo’s smile looked mocking. “Did you not hear the unnatural silence in the city? I would've thought that that would be impossible to miss. The lack of human voices, trapped behind locked doors and barred windows?”

Oikawa couldn’t deny that. Neither could Iwaizumi.

“That’s because you’ve already eradicated them all, when they got infected with the plague and were turned to beasts. There  _ are _ no more people left in the city to protect,” Kuroo stated in a cruel parody of words Oikawa had spoken only days ago.  _ There’s nothing left to protect, Iwa-chan. _ “The only monsters you see within the city now are those that have come in from the outside. Everyone who’s safe is already locked behind the Chapel doors.”

Kuroo had a sense of smug delight as he leaned back again, relaxing upon the pews.

“There is nothing tying you two down to the city.”  _ Nothing but pride, obligation and duty, _ Oikawa thought spitefully. Things that Kuroo seemed not to have. “Accompany me as I search for the passphrase. Accompany me to Byrgenwerth. I  _ swear _ to you, we will find something of note there.”

Iwaizumi seemed convinced, and had turned to look at Oikawa with his dark eyes, awaiting his decision.

Oikawa pursed his lips.

“Where do you intend to go for this passphrase?” He asked. “Why Byrgenwerth?”

Kuroo paused. Oikawa had a feeling that, if his face had been bare, he would see a raised eyebrow. Condescending and mocking in its superiority and knowledge

“Don’t you find it strange that the plagues had not been recorded in history predating the establishment of Byrgenwerth?” Kuroo stated, leaning forward. His voice was soft, gentle and coaxing. “All of the records we have, hidden away in the archives of Yharnam, state this fact. The epidemic  _ did not exist _ before Byrgenwerth had been founded by Master Willem.”

Iwaizumi had stilled at that.

“You’re saying that Provost Willem may have contributed to the plague,” Iwaizumi stated a moment later.

“Oh no--not saying.  _ Implying _ . Suggesting. Hypothesising. Not  _ stating _ it as fact. There isn’t anything concrete yet to prove this, but the correlation between the sighting of the first beast and the establishment of the school stands. It is too significant to ignore.” Kuroo said, waving a hand. “If we go to Byrgenwerth, we may be able to--”

“Find the source of the plague. And eradicate this once and for all,” Iwaizumi completed, eyes wide as he stared intently at Kuroo. “That’s what you’re saying.”

Kuroo’s grin was slow to grow, encompassing his face from one side of his cheek to the other.

“Yes. That is  _ exactly _ what I’m saying.”

* * *

Oikawa knew that even if he refused to follow Kuroo, Iwaizumi would have left with the Church Hunter when morning came.

Kuroo’s words had lit up a passion deep inside of his closest, most dearest of friends, and Oikawa would be hard-pressed to deter Iwaizumi from plunging himself headfirst into the trap that Kuroo had spun with his words.

Because that’s what his proposition had been.

A trap.

A beautifully laid out and gilded trap, perfectly tailored to ensnare Oikawa’s partner and therefore Oikawa himself.

Where Iwaizumi went, Oikawa would follow. Just as surely as the opposite would occur.

He clenched his fist, unable to stop himself from scowling darkly out of the enamel window. He didn’t trust Kuroo and his wide, cat-like grins. He didn’t trust the Church Hunter with his sly words, all silken and dressed up to make simple men like Iwaizumi believe in every word he said.

He didn’t trust Kuroo because Kuroo was too much like himself, and it  _ disgusted _ him.

Behind him, Iwaizumi slumbered, ever fully-dressed with his broadsword strapped to his back and gun holstered at his hip. Behind him, Kuroo sat upright, supposedly asleep in a stance that made him seem awake. Oikawa couldn’t tell if Kuroo was asleep: the headgear hid too much of his face for Oikawa to ascertain it.

Oikawa wanted to creep over to the Church Hunter and slit his throat, unravel the chain of his cane and strangle him with the serrated edge of the threaded metal spikes. He  _ hated _ how Kuroo seemed to waltz into the comfortable dynamic between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, then seduce Iwaizumi away from Oikawa’s side to join him on this journey without certain goals.

Kuroo  _ said _ that there may be a solution to the beast problem.

Kuroo  _ said _ that there may be history at Byrgenwerth that could promise a cure.

Kuroo  _ said _ that there may be the source of all of the hundreds of thousands of Hunts Yharnam had experienced at Byrgenwerth, but Oikawa had so many questions about how  _ questionable  _ this all was.

If Byrgenwerth had been the source, why had no other Hunter found it before Kuroo? If Byrgenwerth had been the source, how had Nekomata not  _ known _ , having been one of the first students of Provost Willem and having  _ founded the Healing Church _ . If Byrgenwerth had been the source--why was someone who was so vocal of his  _ worship _ for the ancient school of thought so willing to undermine its authority?

These thoughts kept him awake long until morning came.

Iwaizumi had taken a look at the gauntness of his face, and hadn’t spoken a word of rebuke.

Oikawa fell into step behind Kuroo and Iwaizumi as they swept out of the Chapel that morning, a group of survivors lingering behind them to watch the exodus of a trio of Hunters clad in brown and black.

A symbol of hope and death all in one.


	6. Chapter Six

The Forbidden Woods: it was a large expanse of trees, filled with uneven terrain that hid beneath a thriving undergrowth of half-sentient plants.

It was also one of the most densely populated areas when it came to Hunts, as the beasts seemed to congregate to dark, sheltered locations, and as such most Hunters would focus the majority of their efforts on examining every inch of the woods in the hopes that the plague source would be found there.

Oikawa had only been through the area three times, and Iwaizumi only one time more than he. Oikawa had never been deep within the woods, only sticking to the outskirts to help escort survivors out of the Woods and back into the city. As such, he was utterly unfamiliar with the surrounding area.

In fact, all of the areas outside of Yharnam’s cobblestone streets had Oikawa wary due to its unfamiliarity.

Kuroo, however, moved through the area as if he knew it like the back of his own hand.

He walked through the forest, every step filled with confidence as if he knew every knot on every tree that they came across, as if he knew the tread of the land.

He unerringly found deer trails--perhaps Beast trails in this time--that brought them unhindered onto old forest paths lined with aged and moss-covered stone.

They trekked through the Forbidden Woods, making progress where others would take weeks.

Lesser beasts that they came across were easily dispatched. They took great effort in keeping silent--or as close to it as possible, in the hopes that it would stop other beasts from congregating around them.

When they were found in great numbers, they displayed the ability to coordinate and hunt, much akin to a wolf pack.

Oikawa hated dealing with grouped beasts. He didn’t revel in the mortality he would feel, and he doubted he ever would. He couldn’t deny that he enjoyed Hunting, but only when he was in the superior position. While other Hunters may chase after the excitement and adrenaline of a hard-won fight--Oikawa himself chased after something far greater.

He wanted the  _ end _ to this all.

His deep thoughts were cut through by the unwelcome sound of the Church Hunter speaking.

“We can stop just ahead. There is a safehouse located within the side of a hill.” Kuroo murmured softly. He had stopped by a vine-covered tree, brushing the leaves aside to reveal tarnished copper.

It was an old plate bolted onto the tree. The tree had grown around it, and it was now embedded fully into the wood.

The symbols written there were esoteric. Church-related, probably. Oikawa didn’t recognise it at all, and he assumed neither would Iwaizumi.

Oikawa cut his eyes to the side, watching how the sun above them dipped into the heavy blanket of leaves that made up the forest canopy. “Good. I’d rather not be caught outside at night while exhausted.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “You wouldn’t be exhausted if you’d slept last night.”

“Yeah, yeah, Iwa-chan. You don’t need to mother me like you’re my mother!” Oikawa didn’t mention how he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. Not while Kuroo’s very presence had him feeling as if he were standing by a feral beast. He was just waiting for Kuroo to slip up and show them exactly what he wanted with them.

Oikawa was certain that it wouldn’t be for anything good.

He watched with critical eyes as Kuroo went off ahead, followed by Iwaizumi. Kuroo seemed to be searching for something: he kept touching trees, kept stooping to brush his fingers through the undergrowth.

Iwaizumi peered curiously after him, clearly intent on finding out exactly what Kuroo was doing.

Kuroo didn’t seem to notice or care. He continued to walk ahead until he finally found what he seemed to be looking forward, since he made a soft sound of triumph.

“Here it is.”

Oikawa watched as Kuroo pulled out a cross from his pocket and slashed through the air to no apparent effect. He opened his mouth to ask what in Yharnam’s name he was doing--when he saw it.

The air rippled.

And where trees had stood before, a disheveled hut melted into appearance. It wasn’t glamorous at all, with a dilapidated roof and missing windows, but the foundations upon which it stood were carved with a variety of runes.

Caryll runes.

He could recognise some of them, since he'd studied them casually after coming across them within an old workshop, years and years ago. He couldn't recall much information about them, save for the fact that they had been developed by a former student of Byrgenwerth.

Everything seemed to go back to Byrgenwerth these days, Oikawa noted in disgust.

He took a closer look at the Caryll runes that inscribed words of security, of hiding and of power were written into the aged stone, and found himself satisfied that they appeared genuine.

Kuroo walked forward to the hut.

“This is where we will be staying. The runes keep this hut hidden from beasts, but I brought incense from the Chapel just in case,” Kuroo stated firmly.

Iwaizumi let out a soft huff. “Looks homey,” he remarked to Oikawa.

“It looks terrible.” Oikawa responded bluntly, before pushing past them both to enter the hut.

Iwaizumi followed after Oikawa after a moment, and they peered around the hut in unabashed curiosity.

It was rundown and half-ruined from lack of use and care. Perhaps it was set up in the time of Byrgenwerth's prime, since the remnants of whatever architecture it may have displayed didn't seem familiar to Oikawa.

Oikawa could see that an old, ragged cot was set up in the corner, and that there were the remnants of an old fire in the fireplace. There seemed to be a serviceable stove to the side: it would only need some wood to get a fire started to cook something worth eating.

Kuroo moved to sit down on one of the chairs, and it creaked ominously under his weight.

“Why are we in the Woods?” Oikawa demanded before he could get too comfortable. “I thought we were searching for the passcode, not--romping through the forest, attracting  _ every living beast _ to us.”

“Yes--we _ are _ searching for the passcodes. It’s somewhere in the Woods. I don’t know the exact location, but--it’s going to be found on one of the beasts. I know this for sure,” Kuroo stated. He didn’t seem surprised by Oikawa’s hostile remarks.

“How do you know this?” Iwaizumi asked curiously. He moved to sit down on the cot. Tufts of straw fell out of the threadbare mattress, but none of them paid much mind to it.

“Because--the door that I was trying to unlock at Byrgenwerth had a very distinct phrase on it.  _ To unlock the truth, one must search it within those that have lost their Insightful mind. _ ” Kuroo stated, being candid enough that Oikawa subsided somewhat in his anger. “I concluded the phrase referred to the beasts, who all used to be humans at one point.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “So we kill people, then.”

Kuroo paused. Then nodded. “Yes, we do. We kill... people to find this key.”

Kuroo fell silent after that, and didn't respond to any of Iwaizumi's following attempts at conversation.

That night, Oikawa and Iwaizumi shared the small cot in the corner of the hut, while Kuroo slept on the chair by the door.

Oikawa wasn’t sure if he slept, for he could recall catching sight of a dark shape that lingered just beyond the trees surrounding the hut through the gaps in the walls of the hut. He could recall watching it all night long, and he could recall that it was watching him in return.

* * *

Kuroo didn’t fit in with them.

Or rather, Oikawa thought bitterly,  _ Oikawa _ didn’t fit in with them.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s bond had been forged in battle and experience together. They were the two pairs of wheels on a carriage working in tandem and in perfect synchrony, never needing more than a second’s glance to know what the other was intending on doing.

Having Kuroo there disrupted that.

Iwaizumi was so mindful of Kuroo’s every action, always looking towards the Church Hunter for direction because of just how  _ alien _ he was to them, and it put Oikawa off balance.

Oikawa fought without caring for Kuroo’s presence, thinking of him as an entity to ignore. Iwaizumi fought with too much care for Kuroo’s presence.

Oikawa had swept through a wave of snarling beasts within the forest, his cane managing to cleave through the majority of them before he’d slipped on a blood-slippery pile of leaves. Falling onto his side with a breathless gasp, he’d immediately attempted to roll back onto his feet. Instead, he found himself being pinned down by a large, meaty paw.

He had been at the momentary mercy of a beastly canine with two snapping heads, a mass of bloodshot eyes growing where its ears should have been and a knotted, thrashing bundle of fibres reaching out from a hole in its throat, and he’d  _ stupidly _ sat there, expecting Iwaizumi to come through and slice its head off of his neck.

The dog had lunged at him, closing its teeth around Oikawa’s rapidly raised forearm as he realised Iwaizumi was on the other side of the clearing, working with Kuroo to take down an abomination of a beast.

Oikawa was unable to trust that Iwaizumi was at his back and looking out for him, because Iwaizumi was too busy keeping his eyes on  _ Kuroo  _ instead.

He slashed the beast’s throat open, and a river of blackened, congealed blood fall all over him, seeping into his clothing and into his wounds.

Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed or cared.

He didn't even turn to look at Oikawa _once_. Not until Kuroo and Iwaizumi had killed off the last of the beasts, and Iwaizumi had finally turned around to catch sight of Oikawa peeling his jacket off to inspect his wound.

Oikawa bitterly,  _ angrily _ tended to his wounds after the heat of the battle was over, rebuffing all of Iwaizumi’s attempts at taking hold of his arm to inspect the damage. He physically turned his body away from Iwaizumi, and he heard Iwaizumi's sharp intake of breath.

Iwaizumi was hurt by Oikawa's refusal for his aid.

Good.

“Where are we going to find the passcode to whatever door you want to open again?” Oikawa asked, a spiteful hint to his words as he poured the last of his drinking water all over his arm. "Within a fucking _beast_?"

The black sludge clung stubbornly to the deep gouges in his arm. He wiped it off in disgust. He bandaged the open wound up before grabbing a blood vial from his pocket, moving to stab the tip into his right thigh.

However, Kuroo’s hand stopped him.

“Don’t use that. It’s a deep wound,” Kuroo murmured. “It won’t heal you adequately.”

Oikawa watched as Kuroo pulled his sleeve up, exposing a tanned arm.

“Take my blood and use it. I have the blood of the Healing Church too, you see?” Kuroo’s lips were curled into a mocking smile and Oikawa fought the urge to bare his own teeth at the former doctor.

“I don’t need your blood.” Oikawa spat, even as he kept his eyes fixed on the pale line of a vein trailing from the crook of Kuroo’s elbow to his wrist.

Blood of the Healing Church. Would it be more potent than Sawamura’s? Were there differences in the blood of--in Kuroo’s words,  _ lower-ranking _ members and higher-ranking members?

Oikawa didn’t have much experience the the blood of the Healing Church: Sawamura had been the first priest he’d ever approached for blood, in fact. He’d never been unhealthy enough to require healing, after all.

His eyes trailed up from Kuroo’s exposed arm to his face--and Oikawa jolted when Kuroo suddenly lashed out with a knife.

Even Iwaizumi flinched when Kuroo slashed his own arm open, a clean line across his forearm.

“What the hell are you doing, Kuroo?” Iwaizumi demanded, stepping forward in alarm. “You’re--!”

“Drink it.” Kuroo stated firmly, bringing his arm up and to Oikawa’s lips. His eyes seemed fixed on Oikawa, for all that the headpiece kept his face immaculate and blank of any emotion. “You need to be healed up for the journey ahead.”

“I don’t need  _ your _ blood!” Oikawa hissed.

He tried to move away, push Kuroo aside, but the Church Hunter had alarming strength in his hands: he grabbed Oikawa by his hair, pulling him in and pressing his lips directly to the wound.

There was no getting around it. He could struggle, but it would only get Kuroo’s blood into his mouth.

But if he was going to be  _ forced _ , it would be by his own terms.

Oikawa let out a snarl, and bit down viciously on Kuroo’s arm. Kuroo let out a pained sound as Oikawa drew even more blood out, all but tearing skin as he swallowed the salty, rich,  _ delicious _ blood from Kuroo’s veins.

It was warm as it went down his throat, wet and satisfying in a way that he had never felt before. It drew moans out of him as it lubricated his tongue, filled his mouth near endlessly.

Oikawa kept his eyes fixed upon Kuroo’s headpiece as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of blood, defiance and fury clear in his eyes.

He could feel his wounds seal up, and lapped at the blood regardless--taking more than he needed.

Kuroo wretched his head away, and Oikawa grinned a bloody smile at Kuroo.

The Church Hunter’s lips were now twisted, in either disgust or anger. Perhaps it was both. Or something else entirely. Oikawa didn’t care to try to discern the emotion.

“Thanks, _Kuroo-chan_ ,” he remarked sweetly, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. He licked at his lips, licking his teeth clean of the carmine liquid. “I really needed that. Let's continue on ahead now, shall we?”

"Oikawa." Iwaizumi stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed.

Oikawa pushed himself away from Kuroo before Iwaizumi could continue and stalked off ahead.

He paused by the bodies they'd only just left behind. He stomped viciously on the head of the beast that had assaulted him, and found satisfaction in the way that the skull caved in with an almighty  _crack_.

And he found resistance in the carnage beneath his shoe. His leg stung at the force of impact, but he pushed it aside.

Stooping in curiosity, he sifted his fingers through the still-warm gore, and his fingers closed around a heavy round ball. It was solid flesh, compacted and dense--and when Oikawa took a closer look, it was still alive and pulsing,  _growing_ around whatever was in the very core of the ball.

Digging his fingers into the ball and peeling layers of it back, he found himself smirking at the sight of Caryll runes branded upon the mass of living flesh. It bled onto his hands, but he raised it triumphantly. He threw it at Iwaizumi, who caught despite his surprise.

"Oh, Kuroo-chan," he murmured softly. "Looks like we've found your key."


End file.
